


Wolves in the Stillwood

by Smith



Series: The Doubtful Adventures of the Scoundrel Sinnerman Reed and his Irreverent Reverend Archer [2]
Category: Star Trek: Enterprise
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - Western, Horror, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-11
Updated: 2013-05-11
Packaged: 2017-12-11 12:49:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,482
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/798911
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Smith/pseuds/Smith
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Necessity makes for some strange bedfellows, and for Sheriff Tucker, they don't come any stranger than Reed and his preacher.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wolves in the Stillwood

**Author's Note:**

> This story was partially inspired by the short story [Wolves of the Stillwood](http://www.ichorfalls.com/2008/11/21/wolves-of-the-stillwood/). Set after Someone To Ride The River With.
> 
> Warnings for language, lots of guns, horror themes, animal cruelty and euthanasia, cynical atheism and minor homophobia.
> 
> Many thanks to mareel for your unending support and enthusiasm and EntAllat for the excellent beta work and feedback.

Trip Tucker stood behind his house and stared toward the receding scrubland on the edge of the Stillwood. His presence on the town limits, between civilisation and the wilds, felt appropriate, with the nightmarish shrieks of foxes occasionally echoing over the eerie call of whip-poor-wills and insects in the brush.

Slowly, his eyes were drawn inward to the glowing end of his cigarette as he lost himself in thought, considering her curls of red hair and the sparkle of her green eyes, the feel of her warm body beside him, the curve of her hip. He closed his eyes, but didn't let them remain shut for long, plagued by nervous energy that kept him on the edge of paranoid.

"Sheriff!" Deputy Carter's voice startled him out of his thoughts as the man came running up the hill. "There's been another one! Betty McKinnock's daughter who went missin' yesterday? They just found her in the swamp, all torn up."

With a sigh, Tucker inhaled one last time and flicked his cigarette to the ground, grinding it into the dirt with the heel of his boot. "That's the fifth one this month," he commented, his eyes still scanning the darkened tree line.

"Yes, sir," Jack said, bending over and tightly gripping his knees as he panted for breath. "But it's worse than that. Now they've got Bobby. His wife's called him in missin'."

Tucker turned to his deputy. "Bobby? Shit." He started walking back into town immediately, forcing the young man to follow after him. After a few paces, he stopped. "Jack. Go tell Adelaide we're going to find her husband. I'm taking some men into the wood."

"Sheriff?" Jack stared at him in confusion. "What men?"

"Don't worry about that." He waved a dismissive hand. "You an' George are going to have to handle things for a couple days. But I'm goin' to find Bobby an' bring him home."

"Yes, sir." Jack nodded and took off running again back towards Bobby's house.

Tucker made his way back to the jailhouse. "Reed!"

The man glanced briefly up from his bunk and then disinterestedly looked away. "What do you want?"

"Feel like making a deal?"

"Not with the likes of you," Reed replied, marching over to the window and peering into the night, then strolling towards the bars and leaning casually against them.

"You prefer the gallows?"

"To your ugly grinning mug when you've got me exactly where you want me? Yes."

Tucker rolled his eyes. "Quit your posturin', Reed. I need some men to help me with a little problem I've been having and there's a pardon in it for you."

"Go fuck yourself," Reed spat.

"Guess I'll leave you to think about it," Tucker replied, wiping his cheek with the back of his sleeve. "Bit of advice. Never take to sawin' on the branch that's supportin' you, unless you're bein' hung from it."

Reed snorted as he threw himself back into his bunk. "You're so full of shit, Tucker."

"I'll look forward to hearing your bitter ranting on the way up those steps, then." Tucker tipped his hat with a snide grin as he left. "Sleep well."

Strolling smugly out and leaving Jack in charge, he made his way to the saloon and ordered himself a beer. He had confidence Reed would come around by morning. Even that hardheaded bastard didn't have quite as much of a death wish as he liked to imply.

\--

Across the bar, Archer dropped his hat on the counter as he slumped into a barstool. "Give me bourbon. And lots of it." He grumbled at the bartender. The day had been long, far too long, and his bones ached, but he was grateful for the pain. Better his bones than the one in his chest.

"You look like you could use cheerin' up, darlin'." A young redhead perched on the stool beside him. "Anythin' my girls can do to help?"

Archer's eyes slid from the bottle the bartender had graciously left with him to the gorgeous woman flirting with him. "You know, love, any other day I probably would have said yes, but right now their charms just won't cut it."

"I'm sorry to hear that, doll," she replied with a sigh. "Give me a holler if you change your mind."

Archer grunted in response and poured himself a double, tossing it back and chasing it with another. He spent the rest of the evening in his lonely stupor at the bar, trying to force the image of Reed's body swinging on the gallows from his mind with each swig.

By the time he got thrown out, the longing had grown insufferable. He stumbled through town to the jailhouse and banged on the walls. "Reed!" He called, slumping against the wall underneath the barred window. "Reed!"

Reed opened his eyes when he heard the thump by his head, his name ringing out over the crickets in the grass and the echoing cry of the whip-poor-wills from the woods. With a groan, he lifted his head and turned towards the window. "Archer?"

Reed's eyebrow quirked as he heard what sounded like a sob in response. Glancing at the deputy asleep on the bench outside the cell, he stood up and approached the window, peering out into the darkness to make out the shape of his friend. "What the hell? You're half-seas-over."

"I'm blind drunk," Archer confessed with a chuckle, his head falling against the wall with a thump.

"I can tell," Reed replied dryly, squinting out at him. "What do you want at this time of night?"

"Don't you-" With a hiccup, Archer slid down to sit on the ground, hanging his head miserably in his hands. "Don't you go getting yourself hanged. Don't you fucking get yourself hanged."

Reed smiled slightly. "Don't worry. No one's going to hang me. What's with the grief? You've never been this torn up the other times I've been in the calaboose."

"This time it's different," Archer moaned quietly; Reed could barely hear him.

"Yeah, this time I'm guaranteed a pardon." Reed rolled his eyes. "Tucker's only called up that old bounty because he needs something."

There was a scrabbling on the other side of the wall before Archer's face appeared at the window, his shaky fingers brushing against Reed's own wrapped around the bars. Reed fought the smile tugging the corner of his lips.

"Really?" Archer asked. "You're not going to swing?"

"Well, I'm fairly certain that's where he sees me eventually, but right now I'm too valuable alive. I'm probably the only person around he can by hook or by crook wrangle into doing some dirty job, the only remotely qualified one at least, so I'll be strolling free by morning." Reed reached through the bars and softly patted the side of his friend's head, figuring he could use the comfort. "He's got a pardon all ready and waiting, I've just got to agree to his terms."

"Well then, fucking do it," Archer grumbled loudly, probably more loudly than he intended. "You're driving me mad out here." With a grunt, he turned his back and slid down the wall a few inches.

Reed withdrew his hand and dropped it to his side. "Find a bed for the night, Rev. Sleep it off."

"I'm goin' to sleep right here," Archer replied, dropping to the ground like a rock. "Right here."

Sighing, Reed dropped back onto the cot in the cell and closed his eyes. Within moments, he heard Archer's snores rumbling through the thin divide between them.

"Shut up, you noisy fucker." Reed kicked the wall, but the only response he received was the deputy banging the bars behind him, telling him to shut up. The snores continued.

With a roll of his eyes, Reed hesitated a moment and then switched directions on the bed, folding his arms behind his head as he settled closer to his friend's breathing. The rhythmic sounds of Archer's drunken slumber soon soothed his worries about what Tucker had planned for him and he fell off to sleep himself.

He was startled awake on the cusp of dawn by the clank of keys in the lock, opening his eyes in time to see Tucker standing over him.

"Get up."

Reed lifted an eyebrow and then covered a yawn with the back of his hand. "Aw, sheriff, I was just getting cosy here in this cell."

"I'm sure you'll be just as cosy on the gallows."

"Come on, Tucker." Reed swung his legs over the side of the cot and stretched. "We both know you're not going to hang me. Not today, at least. So ask me for my help again, nicely, and I'll see what I can do."

Tucker grabbed him by the scruff of his collar and hauled him to his feet. "Don't test me, Reed. Mercenaries like you are a dime a dozen, an' some of 'em might even have a cleaner record than you."

"And what are you even holding me for?" Reed sneered, pushing the man back and straightening out his shirt. "I haven't done anything wrong in your jurisdiction."

Tucker stepped back, but kept his eyes on the gunslinger. "I think you'll find killin' a federal marshal is a crime."

Reed scoffed. "You know as well as I do that King Johnson was as crooked as a dog's hind leg. You all but ordered me to kill him."

"An' there ain't a single person in town who'd believe you, let alone defend you." Tucker grinned. "You think little old Mrs. Bellingham the stationmaster's widow is gonna take up your case? Another dead outlaw's another dead outlaw, they don't care what your crime is, long as you look guilty. An' trust me, you look guiltier than a coyote in a chicken coop."

Reed's eyes narrowed. "Bet I could wring your neck before you even got me to the steps."

"Just try it. My deputies all got itchy trigger fingers waitin' to put a bullet in your back."

Reed watched him stonily for a few moments, folding his arms across his chest. "Well, it seems our banter has reached an impasse."

"Indeed." Tucker shrugged, sucking a piece of his breakfast from between his teeth. "Now do you want to get out of here or not?"

"Yes," Reed replied, turning his collar down and tucking his shirt into his trousers. "At least with a pardon I run less of a risk of you pulling this on me again."

"I wouldn't bet on it." Tucker graciously held out his arm and waited for Reed to pass by him on his way out of the cell. "But for another day, you're a free man."

"Just the way I like it," Reed muttered, making his way to the familiar trunk in the corner and retrieving his gear. He sighed when the holster was back on his belt, patting his pistols appreciatively.

"Now where's that bunko artist friend of yours?" Tucker asked, peering out of the window at the orange-washed town. "I'm assumin' you'll be comin' as a pair."

"I have a few ideas," he muttered with a smirk. "But I'll need a few hours to get him in riding shape." Reed didn't have to look at Tucker to know he was frowning in mild confusion.

"I'm afraid I can only give you one, maybe two. I want you at the stables ready to ride out. We're heading into the Stillwood. Some trouble in there I need handled. I've already lost one man."

Reed grumbled but didn't protest. "I'll try." He shrugged on his vest and adjusted his hat.

"Don't try, just be there." Tucker followed him out into the street, then grabbed Reed's arm. "An' if you try anythin', anythin' at all, you'll be deader than a side of bacon before you can even think 'bout reachin' for them pretty guns of yours, y'hear?" 

Reed rolled a shoulder and turned away from the sheriff, taking a deep breath of the smoky morning air. "Yes, sir," he muttered dryly. "I'm not going far. Trust me."

"I wouldn't trust you as far as I could toss you if I was deaf, blind an' dumb." Tucker replied, shoving the door open and heading back inside.

Forgetting the conversation as soon as he stepped off the rickety boards and into the dirt, Reed found Jon's hat down the side of the jailhouse before he found the man himself. With a grin, he turned the corner and discovered him curled up asleep next to the wall, exactly where he'd fallen the night before.

Reed prodded Archer's side with the toe of his boot. "Good morning, sunshine," he said with a chuckle when his friend's eyes creaked open, the pain and disorientation written into all the wrinkles on his face.

"Reed? What?" Archer groaned. "I thought you were dead..."

"No, sir, very much alive. And starving." He crouched down beside his companion. "But we've got a job to do so I need you sober and focused. Come on." Hooking an arm under Archer's and around his back, he hauled the man to his feet, supporting most of his weight.

Archer's hand flew to his head. "Holy mother of god, I think I'm dying."

Reed laughed. "You'll be fine, but you need to lie down." He helped him take a step, bracing himself in case Archer's shaky legs gave out, but it grew easier to help him walk as the man adjusted to being upright.

In the quiet saloon, he got them a room, then inched them up the stairs, stumbling once or twice, to lay Archer down in bed. Setting a glass of cold water nearby, he persuaded the sleepy proprietor to get him some coffee and returned to his friend with steaming mugs.

"Oh, that really hits the spot," Archer said, pushing himself up as he took a sip. He sighed and leaned back against the wall. "So what did Tucker want?"

"Tucker and his half-wit deputies are having some trouble in the Stillwood." Reed blew on his coffee before taking a sip. "We're just there to try and prevent any more of his men going missing. We're expendable, after all."

Archer nodded, letting out a reluctant breath. "Right. When are we heading off?"

"Soon. I bartered a couple of hours to try and get you feeling less like shit warmed over. You were three sheets to the wind last night."

"Yeah." Archer winced. "I'm sorry about that."

"It's fine," Reed replied gently. "In a way, I kind of appreciated the company."

Archer smiled slightly. "Even with my snoring?"

"I got used to it eventually." Reed shrugged.

Archer sniggered under his breath and took another sip of coffee. Reed's laughter joined his own after a moment and they giggled together, though they quickly forgot what was so funny.

With Archer feeling a little more lively after a cup of coffee and a modest breakfast, but his legs still a little uncertain about holding his weight, they made their way down to the stables to ready the horses. Reed kept glancing at his friend to make sure he was still regaining colour until they reached the edge of the corral, where they found Tucker pacing in the shade.

"What's going on?" Reed asked seriously as he stopped nearby.

Tucker looked up, his jaw clenched and his eyes unusually bright. "Someone else has gone missing."

"Anyone important?"

Tucker spun on his heel and walked off, muttering, "A young woman from town. Let's get going."

Reed shared a curious glance with Archer as they headed off to saddle the horses and rode out of town. He was glad, for the moment at least, to be leaving Divergence.

"So what's been happening?" Reed asked the sheriff when they broke the tree line, its canopy offering welcome reprieve from the blazing morning sun.

"Five people have gone missing over the last couple of months," Tucker started, his eyes roaming the surroundings. "And everyone one of 'em has turned up all mangled on the edge of the woods. My youngest deputy, Bobby, went missing last night and I'm going to do my best to bring him back alive."

"Good luck with that," Reed muttered. "You know, I should just shoot you for dragging me into another one of your messes. Now we're out of town I could do it so easily."

"Shut it, Reed," Tucker replied. "You know as well as I do my deputies will know exactly who put the bullet in my head, and they won't be so eager to bargain with you when they have you behind bars."

"Technicalities," Reed muttered. "So what makes you think it's anything more than a pack of wolves?"

"There are no wolves in the Stillwood." Tucker replied, scanning the trees as his horse jerked with a discontent snort. "Divergence was first settled about eighty years ago and no one has ever seen wolves here," he continued warily. "No one has heard so much as a howl from these woods. No bears, no cougars, no nothin'."

"There's a reason it's called the Stillwood," he continued. "Some folk say it's cursed, so even the animals won't come too close. Only animals we ever see out this way is the deer that keep us well-fed, and even those have been disappearin' lately. Never find bones or bodies... only occasionally do we get livestock stolen by the coyotes from the brush to the north. I'm not a superstitious person, but I think this place was designed to test a man's faith."

"Things change," Archer interjected. "Since we started building towns and cities all over the west, animal populations have started to change and move."

"Point taken." Tucker glanced at the preacher. "And no one had any trouble with the place until that first body turned up about six or seven weeks ago, torn up almost like I've seen coyotes shred up sheep. It's just people too, no deer carcasses, and still no sign of any predator. We even had a tracker from back east come through, but he had no answers for us."

"Hm," Archer grunted in contemplation. "So what do you think has happened?"

"Well, the townsfolk have started to cry witchcraft. The people who go missin' are always taken on the edge of the woods. They turn up a few days or weeks later near where they vanished."

"Any witnesses?"

"Only one. The fourth victim's young daughter, Julie, said she saw her father bein' dragged into the forest by an invisible force. The devil, she called it. The victim's brother and his friend arrived after a few minutes, but found no sign of him except a few bent branches and kicked up dirt."

"That's pretty troubling," Archer agreed. "But I'm not the superstitious type."

"Aside from the big man in the sky with the plan," Reed mumbled as he passed him.

"That ain't superstition, that's just fact and faith." Archer didn't so much as glance at him.

"Sounds like a solid belief system," Reed muttered snidely. Archer ignored him so Reed muttered a few more creative insults under his breath and then they rode in silence for the rest of the morning, aside from a few interludes to follow erratic signs of recent passage through the trees.

It became startlingly apparent why the forest was named the Stillwood. Within the hour, all animal noises had ceased. Birdsong and the rustle of small mammals in the undergrowth had accompanied them into the trees and mysteriously faded, leaving only the jingle of reins and occasional snort of the horses. The only movement that caught their eyes between the trunks was the swirls of dust in the sunbeams.

Just after noon they reached a brook, the first sign of life, and watered the horses. Reed slouched down on a rock and chewed a piece of jerky from his pack, glancing at Archer when the man sat down beside him. "Bet we don't find him alive."

"Would it kill you to have a little faith?" Archer asked.

"I'd imagine so," Reed retrieved a flask from an inside pocket and took a swig. He thrust it towards Jon, but the offer was rejected so he tossed back a little more and slid it back into his jacket.

The rest of the first day proved uneventful. Reed tried to get a few more barbs in Tucker, but the man ignored him in favour of growing increasingly obsessed with the task at hand, mistaking every flash of colour for blood splatters, following every bent twig and crushed blade of grass.

Just before sunset, Tucker let them slow to a halt in a clearing where they set up camp. They shot some squirrels to stew and Reed sat down by the fire to smoke while Tucker butchered the meat.

"So who is she?" He asked after a few minutes, watching Tucker fling squirrel entrails into the fire.

Tucker met his eyes through the sting of the smoke. "Just a girl."

"I got that. She's important, isn't she?"

"No," Tucker snapped. "Just a who-" He took a sharp breath and shook his head. "Just a local girl. She works in the saloon."

Archer heard the tail end of the conversation as he returned from feeding the horses and deliberately sat down upwind of Reed. "One of the girls in the saloon?"

Tucker visibly tensed. "Yes," he said slowly. "Point is, it's a problem when two people go missin' at once when all the other victims have been spaced out over a few weeks."

"One of _those_ girls in the saloon?" Archer glanced at Reed and then they both stared intently at the sheriff, who, they were certain, was fighting a blush.

"I don't remember it bein' any of your business," Tucker shot back, hacking more vigourously at the carcass. "An' what's the story with you two, anyway? You're awful close for just ridin' partners." He glared at them triumphantly over the flames.

Reed and Archer shared an awkward glance and carefully put some distance between them. No one said anything else as the meat and potatoes bubbled away on the campfire. They ate in silence and then crawled into their bedrolls.

Sometime later, with the smell of smoke still hanging in the air, Reed turned his head towards Archer, a shaft of unadulterated moonlight illuminating his body with a stark contrast of brilliance and shadow.

"Were you honestly concerned Tucker was going to hang me?"

"For a bit." Archer turned towards him and Reed caught the gleam of his eyes.

"Right." Reed nodded, tongue darting out to moisten his lips as he stared up at the canopy. "I'm sorry for making reckless decisions that have started to affect you."

Archer snorted. "No, you're not."

"Yes, I am," Reed insisted stubbornly. "We're companions, maybe friends. I don't want to keep dragging you into my old messes." An explosive sigh escaped him. "I think I'm going to pay off my bounties and go straight."

"Really?" Archer rolled onto his side.

"Well. I'm getting old and you know we don't live long out here. I enjoy bounty hunting, when it pays off, but sometimes I think I'd prefer to just buy some land somewhere and start making my own cheese."

"Are you drunk? Or sick?" Archer asked, reaching a hand out to feel Reed's forehead.

At the touch, Reed realised the loneliness was getting to him faster than the cold, and he scooted over to crawl into Archer's bedroll. "Hope you don't mind if we share warmth. No, I'm not drunk."

"Just as long as Tucker doesn't catch us like this," Archer replied, wrapping his arms around Reed's slim body so they could better fit together under the blankets.

"Fuck him." Reed rested his head close to his friend's and closed his eyes.

"I grew up on a ranch," Archer murmured after a bit. "Maybe we could go back there and take it on."

"Sounds good," Reed agreed. "I always wondered why you were so damn good with horses." When he noticed Archer's smile, he smiled himself.

"I am pretty fine behind the reins of a strong stallion," Archer boasted, then chuckled dryly when he recognised his own innuendo.

"I bet you are," Reed replied with a snigger, feeling Jon's breath brush warmly against his cheek. He cleared his throat and hastily averted his eyes, glad the moonlight would grey out the slight burn around the shell of his ears.

"You know, it's unusually cold tonight," Archer commented after an awkward lull in the conversation.

"Agreed," Reed murmured, tucking his hands into his armpits, until he caught the look on his friend's face. His eyes narrowed. "Speak plainly, Jon."

Archer's eyebrows lifted at the use of his first name. "I was going to say," he began hesitantly, "that I haven't laid with a woman in a long time, and I... miss the closeness, the warmth."

Reed squinted at him, feeling the man's broad hands gripping him more tightly. "When we first met, you told me sodomy is a sin." He realised a smirk had began to tug at the corner of his lips.

"Well, the holy book is fairly clear on the matter," Jon said as he leaned closer, drawing Malcolm into him and kissing him firmly.

"Well then," Reed breathed, one of his hands tangled in Jon's hair and the other tugging at his collar. "Lucky for us, the tall tales of men are not the word of God."

"Let's leave religion out of the bedroll," Jon replied with a grunt, pushing Reed back and climbing on top of him. "I already have to pray for your soul twice as much."

Reed let out a bark of laughter. "I'm flattered."

"It's no laughing matter." Jon unhooked the first few buttons of Reed's shirt and pushed the fabric back. "And maybe modesty should be the word of the hour. Tucker's over there."

Reed mumbled his acquiescence and tugged at Jon's clothes, breaking a few buttons in his urgency. They were almost naked when a cackling howl split through the silent forest and startled them from one another. 

Tucker was on his feet immediately and marching off into the forest. Reed glanced worriedly at Jon. "I don't think he was asleep. No way he got up that fast from sleeping."

Another screech startled them both to their senses. Jon climbed off Reed and helped him to his feet, but by the time they'd hastily scrambled back into their clothes and headed after Tucker, the man was returning to the campsite. The woods were eerily still once more.

"Nothing." Tucker shrugged coldly, his shoulders hunched and eyes constantly scanning the trees. "It's toying with us. Whatever it is... it's trying to deter us, or just throw us off our game. I didn't hear any footsteps, no retreat. It was here and then... gone."

"It's just bandits being sick fucks as usual," Reed replied, casually dropping back into his bedroll. "Don't let them rile you up."

"I'm tellin' you it ain't bandits," Tucker snapped. "Perhaps if you two degenerates weren't busy violatin' God's law, you might've seen something."

"I doubt it. It doesn't want to be seen," Reed muttered back, sharing a wary glance with Jon now that Tucker's eavesdropping had been confirmed. "You were obviously awake, why weren't you keeping better look-out?"

"You weren't exactly sleepin' yourself!" Tucker yelled back, pacing several feet into the bushes again and firing his gun. "Show your face you fuckin' coward!"

Reed dropped back beside the fire and threw a few more logs into the embers. "They're gone. You can feel it."

With a shout of frustration, Tucker stalked back and forth across the clearing for a few minutes, grumbling angrily to himself. Reed glanced at Jon, who'd flopped tiredly back into his bedroll and turned his back on them, and sighed regretfully. He rolled a cigarette and waited for Tucker to calm down, meeting his eyes over the flames when the sheriff finally joined him.

"I know this means less than nothing coming from a reprobate like me," Reed started, "but I'd like to amend my previous pessimism. I think we have a good chance of finding your girlfriend."

Tucker's eyes darkened as he shot Reed a warning glance, his jaw clenched. "It's not about the girl."

Reed pursed his lips and glanced away, exhaling a plume of smoke. "I think we should head for Critchley's Hollow. Certain groups have operated out of there in the past when they want more of an element of surprise. I thought the camp was abandoned, the men who built it are all dead, but it's an easy place to move into."

"We've long suspected there are bandits workin' out of Critchley's Hollow," Tucker replied. "Fairly certain that's who burned down the O'Reilly ranch, but this doesn't feel like bandits. An' whatever it is, whoever it is, they know we're on the right track or they wouldn't be wakin' us up with that howlin' and screechin'."

"True," Reed commented. "Hopefully we'll pick up a more definite trail in the morning."

"Yeah," Tucker sighed reluctantly. "Look, you can rest. I won't be sleepin' anyway so I'll keep watch."

"You sure?" Reed asked, but he'd already started crawling towards the bedroll.

"Yeah." Tiredly rubbing his face with the back of his hand, Tucker nodded. "Yeah. Just get some sleep, Reed."

Though he was exhausted, Reed struggled to relax. He stared up at the stars through the canopy and listened to Jon's deep breathing, eventually managing to close his eyes. Just as he finally lost the line between sleep and waking, the rustle of clothing and a few muttered words forced him back to the forest.

"It really is cold," Jon slurred as he pressed close to Reed under the blankets. Reed turned into him with a murmur of agreement and settled, finding sleep immediately.

They weren't left to rest long. The remainder of the night was punctuated by human-like bouts of laughter and animalistic howls from the trees, with the intruders disappearing without trace when challenged by gunfire and fruitless searches of the surrounding area.

By sunrise, they were all exhausted and on edge. Tucker fried some biscuits and bacon, but none of them were all that hungry, so they mounted their horses and headed deeper into the trees, towards Critchley's Hollow. None of them mentioned the awkward events of the night before; Jon didn't even share a glance with Reed before they rode out.

The morning progressed with the constant impression that they were being watched, and the sound of footsteps in the trees that stopped a heartbeat after they did, making them uncertain if they were only hearing themselves after all. As the trees thickened, they found themselves dismounting and leading the horses on foot, stopping several times to rest as the slopes of the Stillwood grew steeper.

As they approached the Hollow, the sound of a gunshot snapped through the air and all three of them dropped into the leaf litter. Reed scrambled over to Archer and checked him for blood, their eyes meeting only briefly before Reed jumped to his feet, pistol in hand, and charged into the trees. He could sense someone ahead of him, a presence rather than the tangible shape of a person, so pushed himself harder through the bushes, feeling the spiny branches scratching at his skin.

The chase ended suddenly when Reed tripped and crashed into the undergrowth. His face hit a rock and pain exploded behind his eyes. Driven by instinct more than anything, he clawed his way back to his feet and stared blearily around at the forest, the lines of trees beginning to blur into one another. His legs quivered and vanished under him and he found himself staring up at the canopy. As he lay in the dirt, he heard the cackling and howling circling around him before he passed out.

"Reed." Jon's rough voice summoned him back to the light. "Reed, wake up or I'll punch you."

Reed groaned. "Go die in a hole," he slurred, before he felt the brush of stubble and warm breath as Jon's lips pressed against his own.

"Wake up," Jon murmured as he pulled back. "You wanna find out how last night was supposed to end, don't you?"

"That was very persuasive." Reed opened his eyes, his vision taking a moment to clear. "Where'd the bastards go?"

"Long gone. If there was anyone there to begin with. Tucker thinks it might've been a booby trap."

"But I heard..." He gritted his teeth and pushed himself up, clutching his head when the world started spinning. "There was someone."

Tucker chose that moment to intrude upon them. "You alright, Reed? I didn't know you were such a damsel."

"Go fuck your mother," Reed snarled, wiping his face with the back of his wrist and coming away with a smear of blood.

"Sorry, I've been too busy fucking yours."

Reed's jaw clenched. He dragged himself to his feet and glared at the sheriff, swaying somewhat. "You mention my mother again and I'll fucking skin you."

"I'd like to see you try," Tucker scoffed. "You can barely stand."

"You just fucking wait until I get my feet back," he growled, slouching against the nearest tree. "I'll skin you and then I'll make a sheriff coat."

Tucker only laughed as he turned around and walked back towards the horses. "We must've tripped a wire - no one's here."

Reed growled under his breath as he felt Jon take his arm, shrugging the man off. "I'm fine." He marched forward, intent on proving if his balance wasn't excellent, at least he could keep pace.

Critchley's Hollow was silent. Three cabins stood in a semi-circle around a well, not far from a stagnant pool of water glowing green with algae and buzzing with mosquitoes, obscured by thick surrounding foliage. A dusty saddle had been abandoned on a post with the reins dangling down and occasionally jingling in the wind.

Reed surveyed the site, dragged back into memories of cold nights in Sixgun Chapman's gang. He remembered helping to build this place during one long, exceptionally hot summer, remembered the sting of splinters buried under his fingernails, the ache of limbs sore night after night as he shared ghost stories around the fire with a tin cup of Doc's home-brewed firewater.

"You alright?" Jon asked, drawing him out of the past.

Reed shook his head clear, then nodded. "Fine. It's just a bit like coming back to your family home, you know? First proper family I ever had was here."

Jon clapped a hand on his back. "Come on. Tucker's convinced the place is empty, but he only checked one cabin."

Grumbling, Reed followed Jon toward the first cabin. As soon as they stepped inside, they were assaulted by the stench of rotting meat and a thick cloud of flies. Choking on insects buzzing in his eyes and throat, Reed stumbled back out into the daylight and retched into the grass, clawing at his tongue as he imagined hundreds of tiny legs crawling in his mouth.

"Something in there's deader than dead," Jon commented flippantly as he exited the cabin a few moments later. "Definitely human remains."

Reed gagged again and straightened up, his head spinning. "How can you stomach it?"

Jon shrugged. "I've seen worse." He turned to face the clearing. "Tucker! We found a body."

Tucker emerged from behind a building shaking his head, carrying his hat in his hand and wiping his face. "I found some bloodstains," he said when he drew near. "But no bodies. You say you found one?"

Jon nodded first, then Reed when Tucker's eyes met him. "Cover your face," he suggested.

Tucker pressed a handkerchief over his mouth and nose before he stepped inside. A minute later, he came back out. "That's Ruth Delaney's boy, or what's left of him. Don't ask me how I know. He went missing a couple of weeks ago."

"So maybe we are in the right place after all," Reed murmured, glancing around at the silent camp until a twig snapped loudly somewhere in the woods.

Holding their breaths, they all turned to watch the trees, weapons ready. Nothing happened for several long seconds.

Reed glanced at the lawman. "Did you find anything at all?"

"No." Tucker lifted his revolver.

"There's a hidden door in the middle cabin," Reed said, beginning to make his way across the camp. "It leads to a tunnel that opens into a cave further up the hill. There's a hunting blind and a lookout spot up there."

"I'll head that way," Jon volunteered with a nod.

"Keep your revolver ready," Reed warned him, his emotions unusually close to the surface. "The scum that made and inhabit this place won't hesitate to spill your blood."

"Scum like you, you mean?" Tucker interjected.

"Exactly," Reed replied without a trace of humour. He could feel Tucker's scowl burning into his back as he marched across to the middle cabin and stepped inside, shielding his mouth with the back of his hand. As the door creaked closed behind him, a thrill of cold shot down his spine. He noticed Tucker shivered too when he joined him.

"This shack's creepin' me out," Tucker said after a moment, each of their footsteps making the floorboards groan loudly in the dusty space as they made their way across the first room.

Reed led them around a corner into a small, closed area that lacked a door. "Help me with this?" He asked, gesturing to a tall cupboard before throwing his weight against it.

With Tucker's help, Reed shoved the wardrobe aside to reveal a door, but the padlock was rusted and cobwebs draped the surface. "No one's been through here recently," he commented pensively, stepping back and firing a shot at the lock. He stepped up and wrenched it off, then pulled open the old door.

As they both coughed on the plume of stale air, they caught the stench of something new. Reed sniffed deeply. "This air is not as old as it appears. Can you smell that?" He licked his lips, glancing at Tucker.

"Yeah, I can smell it," Tucker replied, taking a cautious step forward into the darkness. "Smells like gunpowder."

"And something else. That undertone, that-" He took another deep breath. "It smells like blood. Blood and waste." Shoving Tucker aside, he took his first step down the creaking stairway into the dark. "You don't know these tunnels. We need light."

Tucker grumbled and glanced around the room. Tearing ragged sheets from the bed and breaking a broom, he fashioned a torch and doused it in the fuel of a cracked kerosene lamp, lighting it with a match. Reed cringed at the rancid burning smell as he turned to head into the cave, beckoning Tucker to follow.

The rotting wooden stairs led down into a rocky tunnel that turned sharply right into to a crudely carved out nook. A table with one pair of legs shorter than the other stood in the centre, the surface ragged with splinters and smeared with dark stains. The stench of the torch was overwhelmed by the smell of death.

Tucker covered his mouth with the back of his hand as he gagged. "Someone's definitely been finished in here."

Reed nodded. "Let's move on."

As they inched up the passage, their eyes and ears straining a few feet ahead, they began to hear the quietest of sounds, a muffled whimpering like a child crying into a pillow. When they turned a bend into another, wider space, they found three rusty cages barely big enough to hold a hound, illuminated only by the dim glow of an oil lamp in one corner. They all appeared empty on first glance, but as they drew closer the torchlight revealed a shape in one of the back corners, trembling violently, ragged tunic stained dark.

Tucker stalled as he noticed the body, far too small to be an adult. He drew his gun and shot the lock off, pulling open the door with a long, low creak and dropping to his knees. "Hello?"

The child flinched and scooted closer to the back of the cage. 

"It's alright," the sheriff soothed. "We won't hurt you. My name's Trip Tucker. I'm a sheriff. We're here to get you out."

A frightened face turned towards him, eyes wide and sunken above prominent cheekbones. "Sheriff?"

"Yeah," Tucker answered earnestly. "See?" He flashed the badge on his jacket. "Where are you from, son?"

"Coal Valley," the boy replied.

Tucker glanced back at Reed. "Coal Valley is at least a day's ride east from here." He peered back into the cage and outstretched his hand. "We're going to get you out of here. What's your name?"

"B-Benjamin, sir," he stuttered, breath hitching as his eyes shot warily to Reed and returned to Tucker. "Ben Walker." He hesitated a moment before taking the sheriff's hand, letting the man pull him out of the cage and to his feet. Halfway out he tripped on the rock, legs collapsing under him, and stumbled into Tucker’s arms.

Handing the torch to Reed, Tucker lifted the child up as he stood. "Right. Ben. We're goin' to get you home. Can you tell me if you've seen a young woman with curly red hair or a man about my age with a stubbled beard and a little scar by his left eye?"

Ben shook his head. "No. I haven't seen anyone for days and days. They just leave you alone in the dark." He took a sharp breath.

Tucker rubbed his back. "It's alright, Ben. Can you tell me anything about who they are?"

Again, the child shook his head. "Never see them. Always dark. Then they leave."

Tucker turned accusing eyes on Reed, darkened by the flickering light of the torch. "I should haul you to the gallows right now for havin' any involvement in buildin' this place."

Reed turned around and stalked down the cells, checking for any other signs of life. "We didn't set up this fucking torture chamber," he snapped back. "We stored loot and hung our meat in here. Sometimes we'd use it as an escape if someone came riding towards the hollow, but I've never seen these cages before and we never kidnapped people."

"Right," Tucker muttered, unconvinced. "Let's keep moving."

"You can wipe that look off your face," Reed warned. "I don't take kindly to people calling me a liar."

"No wonder you don't have many friends," Tucker sneered. "Get us out of here."

Reed grumbled under his breath about murdering Tucker in his sleep, but otherwise returned his focus to the task at hand. The tunnel widened as they continued, allowing them the space to walk side-by-side with careful step after careful step over the worn rock, occasionally dislodging gravel that clattered down the sloping path and made them freeze until they were certain no one was coming.

Several yards further along the tunnel a cacophony of yips and howls made them both jump. They turned a corner to find another row of cages full of coyotes, their fur patchy where it had been stripped by mange, skin torn and bloody as they scratched at themselves and each other.

Reed and Tucker stood in the corner of the room, watching the rabid animals try to chew their way through the grates, until Reed took out his pistol and shot one dead.

"Are you crazy?" Tucker yelled, his own ears ringing as he belatedly shielded Ben's from the loud noise.

"They're sick," Reed answered plainly. "It's the kindest thing. What else are we going to do? Release them so they can spread disease?"

Tucker gritted his teeth and turned away, carrying Ben further up the passage while the gunshots rang out. He released a tremulous breath when silence finally returned, suddenly deafening in its intensity. The boy in his arms was shaking, so he stroked his back in an attempt to soothe him, glancing up at Reed with a scowl when the outlaw joined them.

Reed's lips were pressed into a thin, nearly invisible line in the flickering torchlight, but his expression was otherwise carefully blank and unremorseful as he passed by. They rounded another bend and heard a scuffle, but it stopped soon after they paused.

With a gesture, Reed instructed them to wait. The gunslinger steeled himself with a sharp breath drawn between gritted teeth, holding his pistol ready, then slipped around the corner.

"Tucker!" He shouted back after a few seconds, looking up when the sheriff joined him. "Is this who you're looking for?"

In the back of the nearest cell, a pair of eyes Trip would recognise anywhere stared up at him through the gloom. "Ruby?" He set the torch aside and the little boy down on his shaky legs, then knelt down in front of the cage. "Ruby, darlin', you're alive."

Ruby scooted over, and when her fingers brushed his own around the bars, he sighed and softly caressed her knuckles. "I thought you were a goner."

"So did I for a moment there," she confessed, smiling weakly.

"Did you see who did this? Did you see anythin'?"

"No." Ruby shook her head. "I was pickin' mushrooms and somethin' hit me in the head, then I woke up here with Bobby." She tilted her head toward a second cage. "I haven't seen or heard nothin' except them damn coyotes since I got here."

Trip's eyes followed Ruby's gesture to his deputy. He sighed. "Whoever or whatever's doing this has some damn nerve. We haven't seen nothin' either, but we know it's been followin' us from town."

"I don't know if it's man or beast or somethin' else, but I've never been happier to see your face, Mr. Tucker."

"Nor I yours," he said. "Reed. Any sign of-" Another gunshot startled him from Ruby's beautiful eyes and he looked up to see Reed wrangling the padlock off the other cage.

"Who's your handsome companion?" Ruby asked, peering curiously at the stranger.

Tucker scowled. "Just some lowlife I roped into this little escapade."

"Ah, you must be the Reed fellow that preacher was mopin' about. Carter was tellin' me you're Charlie's secret weapon."

"I'd hardly call him that," Trip grunted. "Now sit back. I'm gonna shoot the lock." He stepped away a few feet and withdrew his revolver, keeping his hand as steady as he could as he shot off the padlock.

Holstering the weapon once more, he noticed Ben had stepped away, his back pressed flush against the cave wall and legs shaking, so Trip scooted closer and gently patted the boy on the back. "You alright? We're all gonna get out of here."

Trip watched Ben's Adam's apple bob in his throat as the child swallowed and nodded cautiously, eyes drifting past the sheriff to Reed. Tucker glanced over his shoulder to see the outlaw hauling Bobby out of one of the cages, the deputy's hair matted with dried blood, but he appeared to be breathing, snoring in fact. Trip almost smiled.

Ruby got to her feet and straightened out her skirt. "Bein' cramped up like that really doesn't suit me," she muttered with a frown.

Trip picked up Ben and the torch and gestured towards the room's exit, the way they hadn't come. "Let's get moving. Everyone stay together."

Ruby helped Reed haul Bobby half to his feet and the two of them began to drag the deputy through the tunnel. Trip noticed Ruby kept eyeing his companion; he wanted to tell her the man wasn't interested, but figured she'd work it out herself. Still, he couldn't deny the fierce sting of jealousy under his tongue.

Then there was a loud rumble and the ground shook, wood dust leaked from the old beams that helped reinforce the ceiling and a crash from up ahead sent a waft of stale air rushing up the tunnel to meet them.

Reed dropped Bobby and disappeared into the darkness.

"Reed!" Tucker called after him, voice echoing coldly as the rumbling stopped.

Ruby sagged against the wall with the deputy, who stirred a little, groaned, and went limp once more.

"Everyone stay where you are," Tucker ordered, covering his mouth as he choked on the dusty air.

"Don't have to tell me twice," Ruby said through coughs.

Reed emerged from the darkness with one dwindling match lighting his solemn face, the darkness burrowing deeply into the lines around his eyes and mouth. Against his chest, he clutched a hat, flattened on one side and unmistakably Archer's.

"The way has collapsed. We have to go back," he said flatly, marching past them.

Tucker glanced at Ruby and shrugged, turning around and walking after Reed as Ben's grip tightened around his neck. Though she struggled to carry Bobby by herself, the madam didn't complain at all, a hard determination setting her jaw as they followed the dim flicker of Reed's matches.

No one said a word as they journeyed back through the cave, coughing on dust and the stench of death as they passed through the coyote room. Finally, they arrived at the creaking stairs back up into the cabin.

When Tucker turned around to watch Reed close the door behind them, he noticed the gunslinger was still clutching the hat against his chest with a haunted darkness in his eyes. As Reed's gaze turned on him, Tucker fought the urge not to shiver.

"If he's gone," Reed said slowly. "You will pay for his life with your own." He turned and walked away, his gait unusually awkward as he held himself from running.

\--

Making his way slowly up the hill and fighting the tightness in his chest every step of the way, Reed stared down at the ground, his knuckles turning white as he gripped Jon's hat. He recalled his cynical derision of Jonathan's faith and bit his tongue with regret, wishing he had even half the man's optimism, wishing he could set aside his pride for just a moment and glance heavenward with a prayer. But he couldn't. He kept his head hung and walked faster.

When he reached the hunting blind, he found two horses hitched to a post. They appeared in good health, but not recently ridden. Still, he armed himself and checked the lookout thoroughly. As always, no sign of their pursuers, so he gave up and headed into the caves, a more important task on his mind.

The air was still thick with disturbed dirt as Reed left daylight behind him, his hands beginning to tremble.

"Get a hold of yourself, Reed," he muttered to himself, teeth clenching as he heard only silence. "Archer!" His call echoed and faded. "You better show your damn face or so help me I'll-"

A cough startled him from his rant. He picked up his pace but placed his feet carefully, not wanting to trip another wire like the one that had probably caused the cave in. Through the murky air, he glimpsed the vaguest outline of Jon's figure and heard his uneven footsteps.

"Reed?" Archer asked weakly.

Forgetting all about traps, Reed fumbled for his friend, only taking a breath when his hands settled on the man's shoulders and ran down his arms. "Are you hurt?"

"Scratched and bruised, that's all. I tripped a wire and the whole thing came down."

"I know," Reed replied dryly. "Come on." He grabbed his hand and yanked him back towards the sun, his grip tightening with every step.

When they finally reached the outside, Reed grabbed Jon by his collar and kissed him hard. He shoved Jon's hat back on his head as he pulled back. "Let's get my pardon letter and get out of here. I'm not riding with that bastard a second longer."

Jon was left dazedly standing there, blinking slowly as he adjusted to the light and watching Reed stride off towards the camp. Once he was certain all his limbs were still attached and the rock to his head hadn't been serious, he sighed and followed after his friend.

\--

Bobby was conscious, if a little bleary-eyed, when they reached the cabins. Ruby was sitting in the dirt with Ben while the boy took a drink, rubbing his back awkwardly.

Reed marched up to Tucker. "Give me my pardon letter. I did what you asked. I got you your floozy back."

"I can't take four people on my horse." Tucker straightened up. "You're gonna have to help me get them back to town."

"No." Reed shook his head. "I'm in no mood for your games. There are two horses up there - you take them. We part ways now."

"Fine." Tucker dipped into the inside pocket of his jacket and handed over the letter. "I'm sure this won't be the last time I get to manipulate you into helping me, but... so long for now, Reed."

Reed grunted in response and checked the letter, before sliding it into his vest. He tipped his hat to Ruby and the boy and then mockingly bowed his head to Tucker with a sneer. "Well, this wasn't remotely enjoyable. Goodbye." Setting his hat back on his head, he turned around and walked off.

"I wouldn't say you're a good guy," Tucker said reluctantly to Jon as they both watched Reed stalk back into the trees. "But I will never understand why you travel with him."

"I'm fine with that," Jon replied as he brushed dirt off his shoulders. "And if you threaten to hang him again, _I'll_ be the one skinning you."

"It's a crime to threaten a lawman," Tucker said.

"Then call me a criminal," Jon said flippantly. "I hope we never see each other ever again but, unfortunately, life is never that kind." He flicked the brim of his hat, adjusted his jacket and headed off. "Good day."

"You sure can pick 'em, boss," Bobby grumbled, clutching his head.

"He got the job done, didn't he?" Tucker sat down between his deputy and the madam and glanced at the little boy. "Are you okay?

Ben nodded, a little colour returning to his cheeks as he sipped his water. "Yes, thank you, sir."

"We're riding to Divergence for now, but I'll get you a carriage back to Coal Valley as soon as I can." Tucker turned to Ruby. "Are you alright?"

"You know me, Mr. Tucker. I'll be the last thing left standin' when God gets sick of us little people."

Tucker nodded slowly and rubbed his face, abruptly feeling the stresses of the last couple of days. "You sure will, Miss Bird."

Ruby leaned in and kissed his cheek, her hand resting lightly around his bicep. "But I do appreciate the rescue immensely, Charlie. I won't forget it."

Trip glanced at her with a shy smile, taking off his hat. "You're very welcome, darlin'." He stared at her a moment longer and then dropped his head. "But we should probably get out of here before those bastards come back. God knows who they are or what they're messin' with around here. I'll find out another day, send a marshal up here with some men." Hauling himself back to his feet, he extended a gentlemanly hand to her and helped her up as well, taking a deep breath when she hovered a little too close.

"That's truly the most wonderful thing anyone has ever said to me," she said, smiling at Ben as she helped him up and rested a hand between his shoulder blades, looking back to Tucker. "I need a long hot bath and a brand new dress."

Trip watched the gesture with a vague smile, trying not to remember those bittersweet dreams he had where she was the mother of his children and it was Charles Tucker IV she was comforting. A deep sigh of relief exploded from him as he began to realise she was safe. With or without him, that's what he wanted for her most of all, but he still held out hope that one day she'd look at him the way she'd looked at Reed.

Tucker glanced off into the distance as they prepared to leave, watching the criminal and his preacher mount their horses and head off in the opposite direction to the way they'd come.

\--

Reed started leading he and Jon northwards out of the Stillwood, both of them eager to put as much distance between themselves and Tucker, and the unnerving forest, as possible.

"There's a hot spring a few hours from here, in the valley between the northern edge of the forest and the reservation," Reed shared after they'd escaped the thicker trees, lighting a cigarette. "Feel like taking a break? The boys and I used to ride out there every few weeks to unwind."

Jon lifted an eyebrow. "Hot springs? Sounds good. After the tumble I took in the tunnels, I could use a rest."

"Good." Reed nodded, and didn't say anything more on the matter.

They rode mostly in silence from then on, though Archer couldn't tell if it was awkwardness or anger that kept Reed's jaw tight and his brow furrowed, but both of them let out an audible sigh of relief when they were out of the trees, sharing the briefest of glances to just reassure themselves the other was alive. Life and sound abruptly returned to the world around them. Birds flew and cawed overhead, the white tails of deer bobbed in the scrub and rabbits hopped amongst the weeds.

Just before sundown, with the sun lit up like a paper lantern from the orient, Reed slowed them to a halt in a secluded corner of the valley. A few scraggly trees provided cover from anyone travelling through, and a little shelter under which they could pitch a tent and set up their bedrolls.

While Jon performed the menial tasks of cooling off the horses, kindling a fire and starting a kettle of coffee, Reed tried his luck at hunting in the dwindling light, but returned empty-handed. Jon tossed what remained of their supplies into a pot, their attempt to buy more having been thwarted in Divergence when Reed had been arrested.

As he stirred the fledgling mixture, he looked up to see Reed stripping off his clothes. His movements slowed as he watched Reed shrug off his vest and unbutton his grimy shirt, exposing the scars on his back.

Unable to help himself, he got to his feet and drew closer until his fingertips brushed against the man's skin. "You never told me how you got these, though I have a pretty good idea."

"Spare the rod, spoil the child," Reed said coldly, not shying from his companion's touch as he started unfastening his pants and reluctantly removing his holster.

"I think this is rather spoiling the rod," Jon murmured with a frown. Reed rolled his shoulders, so he took that as a sign he should back off.

"Aren't you coming in?" Reed asked as he stripped off, glancing nervously at his pistols as he set them aside.

"Well aren't you just as defenceless as a newborn," Jon muttered with a smirk.

Reed shot him a scathing look and walked towards the spring, dipping his toes in first before he waded in deeper and found a suitable spot to sit down. With a sigh, he leaned his head back and closed his eyes, letting his guard down.

Somewhat more modest, Jon turned away to shrug off his jacket and kick away his boots. Removing his shirt and pants, both stained with trail dust, he joined Reed in the warm water, sinking in up to his neck and groaning quietly under his breath.

"God does bless us with wonderful things," he muttered.

"He does indeed," Reed commented as his eyes slid down Jonathan's neck to the pulse he could see pounding near his clavicle. "Riddle me this, how does a half-wit preacher like you get a body like that?"

"A year of chasing after you, getting shot at and picking up your broken teeth will do that to a guy," Jon replied as he washed off some of the grime on his arms.

"Maybe you should be thanking me, then, if I've helped sculpt you to look like that." Reed snickered to himself. "Mind you, I'm the only one who ever gets to enjoy it. Perhaps I should be congratulating myself. When was the last time you even bedded a woman?"

"When was the last time _you_ bedded a woman?"

"The day we met," he said nonchalantly, washing his chest. "I met a lovely young girl called Rose in the brothel at Carriage Station. It was only when I tried to bed the barman too that I got myself kicked out and caused a brouhaha."

"Well, the life of a preacher doesn't afford you many indulgences," Jon muttered. "Neither does our life between civilisation and the wilderness."

"No wonder we had a close encounter there in the forest. That place comes over you strange."

"A close encounter?" Jonathan looked unimpressed. "Is that how we're terming it now?"

"How else would you describe it?" Reed glanced at him expectantly.

"You're the one who asked me to speak plainly, so I think you owe me the same respect. This tension between us has been brewing for months now and finally we're on the precipice of exploring it, and all of a sudden you're skittish? Is that right?"

Reed took a deep breath as he heaved himself up and sat down next to Jon. He took Jonathan's hand, almost tenderly, under the water. "I wanted it. But I have to reconsider my position after the events of today."

Jon's brow furrowed more deeply. "What do you mean?"

"This life is madness." Reed looked up at the sky and released Jon's hand. "You don't belong here. I will get you killed."

"How does that change anything between us?" Jon shook his head. "You know I ain't going anywhere."

"I'm well aware. More fool you," Reed sneered. "And more fool me for testing you. I've decided we should keep things as they are."

"Ah, back to our days of awkward unresolved tension?" Jonathan rubbed his face. "Sounds delightful. I didn't realise you were only _testing_ me." Feeling tenser than ever, he got up and returned to his bedroll to dry off.

Reed snorted and turned away from the sulking preacher, determined to enjoy the rest of his bath.

Later, in the dead of night, as they huddled together for warmth, Reed examined Jonathan's face by the light of the half-moon. As he was staring, the man's eyes opened and they shared a long look, each of them sensing a disappointed restlessness in the other. They probably wouldn't get much sleep tonight.

"Let's get some rest," Jon murmured anyway, outstretching a hand to rest on Reed's shoulder. "We have many more long days ahead of us."


End file.
